


Preposterous Proposals!

by CeslaToil



Series: Some Enchanted Evening AU [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Ford Is a Weenie, Jokes, M/M, Magic, Romance, Shenanigans, Some Enchanted Evening AU, marriage proposals, there is a giant proposal robot btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8035801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeslaToil/pseuds/CeslaToil
Summary: On a warm, moonlit night in July, Ford must ask a serious question to the man he holds dear...... Now, if only people would stop trying to interrupt.





	1. What Have I Got In My Pocket?

Stan did not sign up to be chased by a decrepit cave guardian this afternoon. This was supposed to be a normal treasure hunt with the family, something nice to do with the kids. Instead, He, Dipper, Mabel and Ford were now being chased through an ancient cavern by a crazed being that might have been generously called "unattractive" depending on the lighting of the room.

"Give back our treasssssureable, Pinesesssssss," it snarled, running on all fours to gain on the retreating family.

"Stan, just give it back what you stole already," Dipper wheezed, already exhausted from running from the beast half the day.

"I don't have anything to give back because I didn't steal anything," snapped Stan.

"THEIVES!"

"Bug off!"

"There's a light up ahead," Mabel shouted, pointing to the mouth of the cave, "We're almost out!"

Just then, the beast tackled Stan, clinging to the old man's back like an enraged, feral cat.

"How do you call him off!" said Stan, who was being punched in the face repeatedly by the emaciated creature.

"Cave guardians have a penchant for riddles," Ford called over the sound of the beasts growls and Stan's constant swearing. "Come up with a clever enough riddle and it might just let you free!"

"Tell him the one about the legs," cried Mabel.

"Or, just give him his treasure back already," said Dipper, rolling his eyes.

Stan grabbed the beast by the arms and flipped it into the stone walls of the cave head first, knocking the creature out instantly. Stan glared at his brother. 

"Riddles? The best you could come up with was _riddles?_ " Stan stomped out of the cave, he could already feel the welts the creature had given him forming on his face.

"Yeah, not my best suggestion under pressure," Ford admitted, "However, it looks like you found an acceptable solution. That should keep him down for at least a few minutes. Let's get out of here before he wakes up."

"It stinks we didn't get to see any of the treasure," said Mabel as the four headed back to the car, which was parked a few feet away from the mouth of the cave. The main road was just a little ways beyond that, with a few cars and trucks casually driving by.

"Well, _most_ of us didn't see any treasure," said Dipper, giving his Grunkle Stan an accusatory look.

"Kid, how many times do I have to repeat myself, I didn't take any treasure," said Stan, crossing his arms impatiently, "I hadn't even seen anything before that goblin started attacking."

"I don't know Stan," said Mabel, looping her fingers into a circle and placing them over her eyes, "It certainly looks like you stole something when I put on a new pair of skepticles!!!"

"The cave guardian shouldn't have attacked unless somebody stole some of his treasure," said Dipper, "and, no offense Grunkle Stan, but you're the most likely culprit."

Ford said nothing.

With an agitated sigh, Stan said, "I swear kids, I didn't steal anything!"

"Well, I didn't do it," said Dipper.

"Me either!" said Mabel.

Ford _still_ said nothing.

Stan rubbed his chin, wincing whenever he touched one of the little bruises the creature had left. "Wait a second... I _didn't_ steal anything..." Stan caught sight of his brother, whose eyes were darting around in all directions. Ford had one of his hands tucked into his coat pocket; it almost looked as if he was clutching on to something inside.

"...I DIDN'T STEAL ANYTHING," shouted Stan triumphantly, pointing to Ford with an accusatory flick of his index finger. A guilty flush tinted Ford's face a bright pink. It was as good as a confession.

" _Grunkle Ford?_ " Dipper and Mabel looked shocked. "You were the one who stole from the cave guardian?"

"Um..." Ford scratched the back of his neck nervously. He hadn't planned on telling them his true motives for going to the treasure horde just yet.

"Is it diamonds? I bet it's diamonds! Can we look at the diamonds," said Mabel excitedly.

"It's not diamonds," said Ford a bit too harshly. He softened his expression a bit as he continued, "Look, trust me, I'll tell you later what this was about, I promise. Right now let's just head back home."

"I don't think so," said Stan, blocking Ford's path to the car. "I'd personally like to know the reason why some twitchy cave person used my face for bongo practice, if you don't mind."

"Come on, Grunkle Ford," said Dipper. "Why are you keeping secrets again? It's not... something dangerous, is it?" Both kids suddenly looked worried; the last time Ford had hidden something from them it had to do with Bill.

"It's nothing like that at all," said Ford with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "Look, I'll have the answer by tomorrow morning--"

"Ugh, that's going to drive me crazy," said Mabel, throwing her hands up in the air. "Why can't we just know now?"

All three of them kept hounding Ford with questions until suddenly, he cried, "Okay, okay, I'll tell you!"

"Really?"

"Yes," said Ford, eyeing a passing truck. He suddenly pulled out a magnet gun from within his coat. "I'll tell you all about it... If you three can catch me!"

Ford shot the magnet gun after the car, pulling him towards the road and onto the car's trunk. He laughed with maniacal glee as he was transported down the road at fifty miles an hour away from his frustrated family.

"We can still catch him," said Stan, ushering the kids into his car with an angry wave of his hand. "Road safety be damned, Ford's clearly lost his mind and we're not going to rest until we find out why!"

*  *  *

They chased Ford around town for hours; each time it seemed like they were gaining on him, Ford would jump from one car to the next on his magnet gun, eluding them at every turn.

"What could possibly be this important that he'd start acting like this," said Dipper as Ford turned a corner on the back of Robbie's van.

"Maybe the treasure was cursed, and he's going to start turning into one of those creepy cave people," said Mabel, cringing at the idea of Ford becoming a crazy, treasure hoarding monster. She'd love him all the same, Mabel thought, but hopefully she could convince him to not run around in a loincloth while drooling and snarling at everyone. Then again, bezazzled loincloths could be a cute summer look...

"Doubt it," said Stan, spinning in a circle once Ford had doubled back on another car in an attempt to ditch them. Two cars nearly crashed behind Stan as he pursued his brother, cursing and waving their fists at his bumper as he drove away. "Odds are this is some embarrassingly goofy problem he just doesn't feel like talking about. Something personal and private. Which is why I'm going to stop at nothing to get him to fess it up. I was only mildly curious before, now it's just going to bug me until we figure this out."

"Aw man, I lost sight of him," said Dipper, "I think he might be somewhere in that crowd of pedestrians."

"Well, guess I'm driving on the sidewalk now," said Stan simply, turning the wheel towards the cement walkway.

"Stan!"

"Okay, fine, we'll continue on foot."

Stan parallel parked the car-- well, it was left by the curb, at any rate-- and left with the kids to go find his twin.

"Grunkle Ford," called Mabel; Stan clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shhh! We don't want him to know we're following him, remember?"

"I already know you're following me, just stop," Ford called from almost a block away.

"Well then, quit being a wiener and just tell us what you're hiding," Stan called back at twice the volume, causing people on the street to stare.

"Never!"

"We're going to find you eventually, just fess up already," said Stan, peering over the bobbing heads in the crowd to see if he could find his brother. No such luck.

"I'll fess up when you stop following me!"

"I'll stop following you when you fess up!"

"Stop following me and I'll fess up!"

"Fess up and I'll stop following you!"

"Stop it!"

"No!"

"Grunkle Ford," cried Mabel, who thought she saw a bit of Ford's coat flapping in the breeze somewhere by the flowershop, "If you turn into a cave person, is it okay if I bezazzle your loincloth?"

"Honey, I'm not turning into a cave person," cried Ford, who was currently crouched behind a dumpster near the arcade. He could see his family searching for him across the street, though thankfully none of them had spotted him just yet. "Just... This is something important to me, and I don't want everyone getting too excited if... if it doesn't work out. Please, just trust me on this."

"Look, we're just worried," said Dipper, who thought his Uncle's voice sounded close by. "Usually whenever you're this secretive about something it's got something to do with dire, end-of-the-world level consequences!"

"It's nothing like that," said Ford, now crawling from behind the dumpster. He had lost sight of his family, which hopefully meant they hadn't seen him just yet. "I mean... it'll certainly change a lot of things if everything goes according to plan, but it's not apocalypse worthy."

"Kids, I think he's hiding behind the arcade," called Stan, his footsteps echoing across the pavement. "Let's grab him now and make him confess whatever dumb, nerd thing he's hiding."

Ford broke out into a run then, the bus station was only a few blocks away. If he got on a bus now he could certainly make it home before his family could reach him. Stan and the kids were clearly exhausted from running all day, but Ford had energy to spare. Only a few more blocks...

If he hadn't kept glancing over his shoulder the whole time he was running, perhaps he wouldn't have ran directly into the Queen of the Fairies, who was going on an afternoon walk with her young son and her four attendants. As it happens, Ford did run into her, nearly knocking them both over onto the sidewalk.

"Hey, watch where you're going, jerk," snapped Titania, slapping Ford across the face. She saw just exactly who she'd been slapping and began to sputter out an apology. "Oh, crap, sorry Ford," she blushed, "Just... you know, watch it." Titania pointed to her son, Daya, who was sitting in a sling hanging from her chest. The boy smiled sweetly at Ford, which took some of the sting out of the blow Titania had given him.

"My lady, please don't slap the humans, they're fragile," chided Peaseblossom, a petite girl dressed in a pink, floral dress. Ford didn't appreciated being told he was fragile by a girl almost as thin as his arm, but he let it slide for the time being.

"It's just bad PR, Tanya," said Cobweb, a spindly woman with white, fluffy hair. "You don't want a reputation as a slap happy diva, trust me, I've been there."

"Yeah, let us slap him instead!" Another girl, named Mustardseed, cracked her knuckles menacingly at the old man.

"You better get ready to watch out, Fluffy Stan," snapped a green, winged creature, aptly named Moth. "Nobody gets on Tanya's nerves except us!"

"I'm very sorry, your majesty," Ford began to apologize, but cut himself off when he saw Stan, Dipper and Mabel emerge from the alley where he'd been hiding. "But I have to go now, no time to explain!"

Ford dashed off right as the bus was about to leave for the Mystery Shack; he forced himself onto the bus full of tourists, snagging a seat in the back just as the vehicle pulled away.

"Well, that was... eventful," quipped Titania. "I wonder why he's running away from his family?"

"GAT DANG IT FORD! GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOU THICK-HEADED DORK!" Stan snarled after the bus, shaking his fist while the kids panted for air, exhausted.

"Well, besides that," said Titania with a smirk. She approached Stan and, with a light tap on the shoulder, directed his attention towards her.

"Hey. Why does your face look as if you've been brawling like a peasant again," she asked in a warm, affectionate tone.

"Oh, what, you want me to start brawling like a Baron or a Duke instead," asked Stan cheekily; he had temporarily forgotten about pursuing Ford as he scooped Titania into a hug. "Say, which one's more impressive, actually, a Duke or a Baron?"

"Don't change the subject," said Titania, tapping Stan's nose with her index finger. "What happened?"

"It's incredible," said Stan, placing Titania gently back on the ground as he spoke. "We had just escaped this ancient cave full of treasure-- I fought off ten, maybe twenty huge guards to save the kids--"

"It was definitely only just one, he probably weighed ninety pounds at the most, and you were running away just like the rest of us" Dipper interjected.

"Don't listen to him, he's delusional from exhaustion," said Stan dismissively. "Anyway, my brother stole some treasure that he won't tell us about, and now he's completely lost it--"

"And he's possibly turning into a cave person!" cried Mabel.

"I think the preferred term is Kobold," said Cobweb with a smug little smile.

"Don't be pedantic, Cobweb," said Titania. "Ford's certainly acting strangely... I suppose you'd like to catch up with him and find out what all the fuss is about?"

"Ah, we'd never reach him by the time we got back to my car, he'd be halfway to the Mystery Shack by then," sighed Stan, who didn't think he could run any more today before suffering cardiac arrest.

"I think I might have a different solution, actually," said Titania, grinning as she spread her large, sparkling wings to their fullest extent.

"Oh my gosh, it's like she's made of glitter," whispered Mabel, starstruck.

"Cobweb, take the kids back to Stan's car and meet us back at the Shack," commanded Titania, who began to hover a few feet off the ground, her wings fluttering at a rapid pace.

"Can she drive?" asked Stan, raising one eyebrow at Titania's wispy servant.

"I don't know, probably," shrugged Titania, who suddenly grabbed Stan under the armpits and lifted him into the air before taking off after the bus.

"Let's get him!" cried Titania, grinning wickedly as Stan screamed all the way down the street, holding onto the Queen's arms for dear life.

*  *  *

 Ford had finally caught his breath when he felt his cell phone begin to vibrate in his coat pocket. With some trepidation, he reached into his pocket, nudging the stolen treasure with one finger before managing to retrieve the device. Though his heart was still racing, it was for an entirely different reason. Ford smiled when he saw it was Fiddleford calling.

"Hello," he said, his voice slightly raspy from running.

"Darlin'? What happened, ya sound exhausted," Fiddleford asked over the line, his tone steeped with concern.

"Oh, it's nothing, just went out for a jog with the family," said Ford, who technically wasn't lying.

"Aw, that's nice!" said Fidds cheerfully. "I cain't ever get Tate to go running with me! Then again, that might be because I like taking all the town's squirrels out for a walk when I do. Oh well. I was just calling to make sure we were still on for tonight!"

"Certainly," said Ford, who had thought of nothing but this date for the past week and a half. His fingers were trembling excitedly at the very thought, though he still tried to keep his tone polite and conversational as he stretched out on his seat. "I'll see you around six?"

"Yep!" chirped Fidds over the line, "I'll be there afore ya can say--"

"HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES!" cried Ford, looking out the the back window with absolute terror. Stan, with the help of Titania, was quickly gaining on the bus; both were wearing looks of joyful insanity as they flew down the road after him.

"Dearest, I'll have to call you back; something just came up-- see you at six," he said, panic-stricken as he hung up the phone. Tucking away the device back in his pocket, he peeked back out the window-- they had vanished. _Where had they gone?_

"Our last stop of the day," announced the bored bus driver over the intercom, "Gravity Falls' own Mystery Shack, a place where the supernatural can be found at every corner."

Just as the bus came to a stop, there was a thud on the hood of the bus-- Stan and Titania had dropped onto the vehicle. Before Stan could even say a word, Ford kicked open the back door of the bus, running for his life towards the little cabin the second he hit the ground.

"Just give up now, Ford," cried Stan, hopping off the bus after his twin. "You're at the end of the line!"

"This might sound a bit hypocritical, considering I'm a glitter-dusted Fairy Queen who wears ballgowns every day of the year," said Titania, "But this seems a tad over dramatic."

"Crazy," agreed Daya, kicking his feet playfully as his mother flew after the fluffy-haired old man.

"For the last time, I'm not telling," cried Ford stubbornly. As soon as he got into the house, he could barricade himself in his room until Fidds came to get him, it was the only way!

His path was blocked, however, by Stan's El Diablo which came swerving in from the road right in front of the house, nearly running him over. All four doors opened, and he was surrounded by Dipper, Mabel, and all of Titania's fairy servants.

Ford sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat as Stan approached him at last.

"Sixer, what the heck was this even about?" said Stan, trying to sound gentle when he saw Ford was shaking.

"Just show us the treasure you stole," said Dipper. "What could be so important that you'd run halfway across town just to avoid telling us?"

"... Fine," said Ford, reaching into his pocket. "I'm sorry if I made any of you worry, but... It's rather personal."

He held out the stolen treasure in the palm of his hand. It was a silver ring, wrought with intricate, weaving patterns.

"That's it?" cried Stan, incredulous. "A _ring?_ You went through all that just for _one_ measly ring?"

"It's not just any ring!" snapped Ford, his face burning hot from all the attention.

"Is it a magic ring?" asked Dipper, just as confused as Stan.

"Is there a genie inside," Mabel suggested.

"No," sighed Ford. "It's... It's an engagement ring. I'm going to ask Fidds to marry me tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned this chapter around the same time I wrote chapter nine of A Midsummer Nightmare, it feels so good to finally have it published! I'll be trying to update this fic about once a week; It'll be difficult, as I'm juggling about six other potential writing projects as well, but I've been wanting to write this story since after the Gravity Falls finale in February! Stay tuned, friends!


	2. Brilliant Minds Think Alike

"Um... how about we take the rest of this conversation inside," suggested Peaseblossom, who saw the crowd of tourists from the bus walking towards them.

"Good idea," said Stan, who felt like bursting out laughing. Only his idiot nerd brother would have gone through all this trouble just to get out of talking about his feelings. Titania snapped her fingers; in an instant, the entire group was teleported into the living room. Ford sank down onto the chair, grinning sheepishly as his family and friends examined him.

"What kind of cheapskate just up and steals an engagement ring from a kobold?" asked Mustardseed, sneering.

"My third husband did," said Cobweb with a wise little nod, "I thought it was rather romantic, if you're in to petty theft."

"Didn't you and McGucket only start dating a few weeks ago, though?" asked Titania, frowning slightly. She took a seat on the T-Rex skull next to the recliner. "Don't you think it's a bit soon? Trust me, you don't want to just rush into a marriage right away if you don't know what the other person is really like."

"Fidds and I have known each other for years, since college," explained Ford, who was eying the silver ring in his hand with trepidation. "I... I've never really been much for romance, but I figured... we're not getting much younger, you know? If there's anyone I'd like to marry, it'd be him."

"You are the biggest sap I have ever met in my entire life," said Stan, rolling his eyes. Stan was in the minority: Tanya and her servants were absolutely fawning over Ford and the stolen engagement ring, even Dipper offered Ford a small, congratulatory smile.

"How did you even manage to get this?" asked Dipper, the ring looked very old and valuable.

"Oh, it's a long story my boy, I don't want to exhaust you with all the details," Ford lied right to his nephew's face; though he had heard about the treasure ages ago and had planned an elaborate heist to retrieve a ring from the heart of the cave, he'd found this ring laying neglected on the Kobold's nightstand, and, thinking it was pretty, had casually tucked it into his pocket and whistled nonchalantly as he went on his merry way.

"Do you mind if I take a look at that ring?" asked Peaseblossom gently, peering at the silver ring with caution. "I just want to run a few test to see if there's any sort of lingering magic that might be... malicious in nature."

"Oh, of course," said Ford, blinking as he placed the ring into the tiny palm of Peaseblossom's hand.

"I'll be back in a moment's time," said Peaseblossom, exiting into the kitchen. Titania's other servants followed her, secretly hoping that there was some kind of curse on the ring and Pease would end up having to fight it. It's the simple things that give us spice in our lives, I suppose.

Dipper looked over at Mabel, who had been surprisingly quiet after Ford had announced his plans to marry. This was because Mabel seemed to have entered this inarticulate state of pure joy; her eyes had gone as wide and sparkling as disco balls, a silly grin stretched across her face as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Um... Mabel," asked Dipper, knowing what was coming next, "are you going to be ok--"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Mabel screeched as she leaped up on the chair and threw her arms around Ford's neck, nearly strangling him in her excitement.

"Oh, well, at least she isn't too disappointed," said Titania with a wink.

"Mama, she's loud," said Daya, pointing at the still screeching Mabel.

"We're aware," said Dipper, who had already covered his ears.

"I-AM-SO-HAPPY-FOR-YOUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!" she cried, actual happy tears streaming down her face as she hugged her Grunkle Ford even tighter. She smirked at Stan, and, pointing at her other Grunkle, she said, "Get ready to pony up that pony, Stan!"

"Pony?" asked Ford, bemused.

"Er... was kinda hoping she didn't remember that deal," muttered Stan, rubbing the back of his neck. "Say, you think your rich husband'll lend me some money to buy a pony?"

"Stan, Mabel, please," said Ford, blushing deeply. "Nothing is set in stone; Fidds and I have a long, messy past with lots of highs and lows. There's no guarantee that he'll be willing to say yes. I didn't want you all getting your expectations up for that reason."

"Ford, the man once tried to marry himself to the fake mermaid I keep in the gift shop," said Stan, throwing his hands up. "His standards are definitely low enough that you've got a decent shot."

"That's not funny," Ford glared at his brother.

"Well," said Dipper with a smile, "I think you'll do fine, Grunkle Ford. It's pretty obvious you two care about each other a lot. I'm sure he'll say yes."

"Thanks, my boy," said Ford with a weak smile. All the same, he still had his doubts. Who knows what Fidds would say when he asked him that night...

*  *  *

"Pa, for the last time, ya cain’t set off a giant robot in the middle of the restaurant to propose to your boyfriend, everyone’ll die,” said Tate without much energy. He had been arguing with his father all day in a futile attempt to convince him to change his plans, at least a little bit. There were certainly other ways to propose without involving mechanical death machines, weren’t there?

"Well, I think it's daring," countered Puck, a wide, toothy smile plastered across his pointed face as he pinned a flower to the lapel of Fiddleford's jacket. Tate had objected to the suit his father had chosen as well, a bright pink tailcoat with green, plastic buttons that looked a bit like owls (where had he even found that?), the suit's only saving grace was that it was well-tailored and clean. However, Fidds adored the outfit, and, knowing a losing battle when he saw it, Tate reluctantly decided to let the matter go.

"Golly, I cain't remember the last time I was this nervous!" Fidds' knees were bouncing together erratically, he himself had been bouncing off the walls of the mansion himself in anticipation the entire day. It had taken him all his restraint not to pop the question over the phone earlier, luckily Ford had to go, who knows what he might've said!

"Do y'all think he'd really say yes," Fiddleford asked the boys, hardly believing it himself.

"Of course he will," said Puck with wholehearted conviction. He clapped Fiddleford on the shoulder with one of his slender hands, beaming enough to reveal every one of Puck's needle-sharp teeth. "He'd be mad to say no! Daft even! Absolutely delusional!"

"Pa, I'm sure Stanford will say yes," said Tate, "which is why ya don't need to bring that death trap into the restaurant."

"Oh, come now," said Puck, his hip jerking to the side as he spoke, "Stop being so sensitive about you father getting remarried already! Let him live the life he wants, Tate!"

"I ain't got no problem with Pa getting remarried ya twerp," Tate snapped, his patience with the bug-eyed Fae well worn and tattered at this point. In fact, Tate was relieved that his father had announced his plans to marry an actual, living human being for once instead of a raccoon or his own beard like he'd done so in the past. Tate's own mother had gotten remarried some years back to a woman from New Jersey named Carla (a sweet old lady, even if she did insist on wearing hot pants all the time). This was a sign that Pa's mind was steadily improving, and Tate was relieved.

But still...

"Aw, Tater-Tot, it ain't even that big as giant robitmajigs go," said Fidds with a pout. "It's only ten feet tall, it's practically a baby!"

"A baby that has exploded in every test run you ever put it through," said Tate firmly.

"All right," said Puck, rolling his eyes at his Boss' son, "so it gets a bit of... mechanical indigestion when we use the pyrotechnics. I still think it's a showstopper! It shows passion, dedication; those are good qualities to have in a marriage, right?"

"AHHH I'M FREAKIN' OUT, MY BOYS!" Fidds' screaming disturbed a cluster of Brownies who were trying to coax Raccoon Wife (Ex-Wife? She would have to change her name if Ford said yes) into a bath. The woodland she-beast snarled at the furry little Fae, scrambling them halfway across the room.

"Pa, try to breathe," sighed Tate; McGucket took several deep breaths while Puck rubbed his shoulders. "Look, maybe ya won't be so nervous if ya just kept it simple. Now, do ya got yer rings ready?"

"I ain't let 'em go since I finished them up," admitted Fidds, pulling a black, velvet box from the depths of his beard. With trembling fingers, Fiddleford opened the box and peered inside at the precious contents. All three men agreed that Fiddleford's idea for the actual engagement rings was brilliant. A set of two magnetic rings specifically crafted with Ford's unusual digits in mind. They were a steely, gunmetal color, inscribed with a lengthy cipher about love and happiness. Fidds had made them himself, his personal favorite invention.

"Why don't ya just show him these," said Tate, giving his father a rare smile. "That's going to be much more impressive than some crazy robot; Ford's going to love them."

"D'ya mean it?" asked Fidds, who was tearing up a little bit.

"If he doesn't," said Puck, giving the little old man a small kiss on top of his head, "we'll toss him in the lake and let the Gobblewonker eat him!"

"No, Puck."

" _Yes_ , Puck!"

"Thanks boys," said Fiddleford, tucking the box back into his beard. He hugged the both of them; though he was still nervous, they had both comforted him greatly. His heart was steady pounding with joy.

"I'll get the driver ready for ya, Pa," said Tate, pulling away to leave the room. "And remember: just relax, keep it simple, and no giant robots!"

Once Tate was gone, Puck pulled a small, black remote from his pants pocket.

"Aaaaaand if ever that doesn't work," said Puck, handing the remote to McGucket, "Here's the remote that'll summon the Proposal-Bot. Just in case."

*  *  *

Ford was wearing a threadbare khaki blazer and a queasy frown.

"Ford, that is the ugliest jacket I've ever seen," said Stan bluntly. He knew the situation was dire when Ford didn't bother to insult him back. Instead, Ford slumped onto a chair by the parlor table, his eyes popping wide as he tried to compose himself.

"Why don't I fix your outfit for you, something a bit more, ah, flattering," suggested Titania kindly as she drew out a silver wand from Daya's diaper bag. Both she and Stan had ordered the kids to play upstairs while Ford got ready for tonight. In the meanwhile, Peaseblossom  was fixing dinner in the next room, the scent of her cooking was strangely floral and sweet. Titania made a mental note to tell her that most humans didn't care for lavender stew.

"I've seen the outfits she makes," whispered Stan to Ford. "Trust me: run."

"Oh, you wouldn't know a good suit if it walked over and spat on those sad, dime-store tragedies you call shoes," sniffed Titania, who began to flick the silver wand back and forth, morphing Ford's clothes into a neat, charcoal grey suit with gleaming silver buttons.

"Yes, that's quite good," nodded Titania; she then summoned a silver tie-pin in the shape of a great tree that she attached to the silk cravat at Ford's throat.

"Well, it doesn't look like it's covered in cat fur and broken dreams, at least," Stan conceded.

"Aw, crap, you still have that mark on your face from where I slapped you," muttered Titania, gently rubbing the slight bruise on Ford's cheek. "Here, let me take care of that." Titania gently pecked Ford on top of the head, the spell she cast instantly brought down the swelling at once. It had done nothing, however, to alleviate the nauseous look on Ford's face.

"How're ya feeling," asked Stan.

"Like I'm going to vomit," Ford admitted.

"Um... don't do that," said Stan flatly.

"Drink this," said Titania, summoning a goblet of some steamy, spiced drink. "Ginger tea," she explained, "supposedly very good for upset stomachs."

Ford snatched the goblet from off the table and chugged the drink down, nearly scalding his throat.

"Why is it," said Stan, folding his arms across his chest as he spoke, "that you can go around chasing after demons and ghosts on a regular basis, but asking one measly hillbilly to marry you fills you with abject terror? I mean, granted, marriage is pretty much the worst--"

"Stanley you are not helping," Ford gasped, rocking back and forth in his chair.

"Hey, look, nobody in this room is actually good at the whole 'monogamy for life' thing," said Stan bluntly. "You've got me, who's only marriage lasted about two days before she up and stole my car, and Queenie over here, who back-flipped her psycho ex-husband into a bed of spikes--"

"God, that was really fun," said Titania wistfully.

"What I'm saying," said Stan, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, "Is that at the very least, you and McGucket can at least tolerate each other enough to fall in love or whatever; if anybody's gonna make it, it's probably going to be you and your mad scientist. You're gonna do fine. Stop moping like a dork."

"I... I appreciate your support, both of you," said Ford, tucking his hands into the pockets of his new jacket. "If I'm being honest, I'm more shocked than anyone that Fidds ever forgave me for half the things that went down between us, and even more surprised he could ever find it in his heart to love me. I'll find it even more implausible if he even does say yes."

There was a sudden knock at the door.

"Holy crap, he's here," yelped Ford, who slapped his hands against his face in fright.

"It's all right," said Titania, soothing Ford by gently stroking his hair. "Just take a moment to breathe. Now, do you have the ring?"

"Y-yes," Ford stuttered after he patted himself down, he found the box Peaseblossom had put the now curse-free ring inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

"Good, good," said Titania encouragingly. "Now, just stand up," she said, pulling Ford to his feet with a brisk tug to the arm, "open up that door, and give that man the most unforgettable night of his life."

"We'll hold down the fort while you two nerds are out," said Stan, patting Ford on the back as the latter marched stiffly towards the front door. "Mabel's probably upstairs planning your engagement party as we speak; If McGucket's got any sort of decency he won't let her down!"

"Okay thanks a lot, bye!" said Ford quickly as he left the parlor, leaving Stan alone with Titania. Grinning, Stan placed an arm around the Fairy Queen's waist.

"Can I help you," she chuckled as he pulled her into a hug.

"Well," said Stan, raising one eyebrow at her, "Y'know, my face is still all bruised up from when that freak in the cave attacked me. Mind helping a guy out?"

"You're lucky it's a special occasion," she said playfully as she took his face into her hands, quickly kissing him on the lips before pulling away again.

"Aw, you're an angel," he smirked, hugging her even tighter. "Actually, I think I still got a bruise on my back, mind trying that again?"

"I just might give you a real bruise if you don't quit it." Titania, now furiously blushing, prodded him in the chest gently with her hand.

"That a promise?"

"You are insufferable," she murmured, giving him yet another kiss.

*  *  *

Fidds felt his jaw drop as Ford greeted him at the door; he looked fantastic!

"Oh my stars," whispered Fidds as he leaped into Stanford's arms, "You look about as handsome as a blue ribbon hog-- er, wait, that's not a good simile at all-- Aw, you know what I meant! C'mere you!"

Fidds planted a smooch right on Ford's nose, causing him to laugh. Whatever fears he felt about tonight, Fiddleford's presence alone was enough to comfort him.

"You're looking well yourself," said Ford, nuzzling against his beloved's neck as they embraced. "You ready to go?"

"Sure shootin'!"

It was going to be a beautiful night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm estimating this fic will be about six chapters long, with a few one-shot side stories I might relate to this fic if I feel up to writing them. At some point, I need to get back to writing My Neighbor Baba Yaga, but I might just hammer this out in only a couple weeks if I manage to do this right. Stay tuned, and, as always, comments are welcome!


	3. Confrence in the Coatroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plotted this chapter so many times in my head; it was the very first scenario I had play out in my mind when I realized I wanted to write this story. I won't tell you too much, as some of these ideas still seem nebulous and unreal as I'm writing this note, but I hope this gives you as much amusement as it's given me for the past seven months.

Ford was staring at the untouched Banana-Nutella Bar he ordered as if it was the most fascinating pastry in the entire world. He had barely touched his entree as well, most of which had been hastily scraped in a to-go box. _I'll have to tell Titania that the ginger tea did nothing,_ he thought as he began to push his pastry across the plate, _I still felt sick to my stomach._ The only reason he had bothered to order the dish at all was to stall before asking Fidds to marry him.

"Darlin'?"

Ford jolted his head up; Fiddleford was staring at him with concern. Fidds had no trouble eating at all: having demolished two orders of a turkey-brie-&-apple panini, he was now tearing his way through a chocolate ganache tart. _Lucky dog_ , Ford thought as he offered Fidds a strained smile. Fiddleford couldn't have had the slightest idea about the storm raging through Ford's mind, how it almost seemed impossible to summon the courage to just _ask_ him already.

"Yer awful quite all of a sudden," said Fidds, taking Ford's large hands into his own. "Everythin' all right now?"

"Ah, of course!" said Ford, loudly and with too much cheer. The other guests were starting to stare. God, why did so many people choose to eat at this particular restaurant tonight of all nights, Ford thought.

"Oh... 'cept yer kinda shaking," said Fidds, noticing how Ford's fingers were trembling under his own grasp, "and yer hands are as cold as ice. Sure ya ain't sick?"

"Sick? Ha, no, never," said Ford again in that falsely cheerful tone, "I've never felt better in my entire life!"

Ford yanked his hand away with a nervous jolt, accidentally upsetting the candle sitting in the middle of the table as he bumped against it. Just as the flames began to lick the table cloth for one horrible moment, Ford flipped his own glass of water upside down and doused it, which ended up soaking half the table and a bit of his own pants.

 _You are blowing it,_ a nasty little voice told Ford as Fidds raised an eyebrow at him. _This is why you couldn't get a date until you hit your sixties, you blithering dolt! Any minute now, he's going to finally wise up and go running into the night screaming just to get away from you!_

"Please excuse me," said Ford, smiling insipidly as he practically jumped out of his chair, his entire face burning from embarrassment. "I have to go bath my wash in the handroom, BE RIGHT BACK."

Ford nearly pushed a poor busboy into the wall as he ran out of the main dining hall in the restaurant, sprinting past the restroom until he finally reached his true destination, the dark, expansive coatroom just by the hostess' podium. Once he was alone in the dark, Ford sank to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. Sighing, he rummaged through his coat pocket, pulling out the plastic box once more to stare at the silver ring.

"I don't know who I'm kidding," he said to himself, flicking the box lid shut and stuffing it back in his pocket once more. "I wouldn't even want to marry myself at this point. I might as well stay in this coatroom for the rest of the night."

"Oh good, company," said Soos, who was sitting only a few inches from Stanford's right. "Say, did you happen to bring any snacks? I only had a salad and I'm already hungry again."

 " _Soos what the devil are you doing lurking in this CLOSET?_ " Ford screamed, nearly kicking the weird, hairless gopher-man as he recoiled against the wall. "I mean-- sorry, I've been on edge all night, I just didn't see you there. What _are_ you doing hiding here?"

"Well, it's kind of a funny story, Dr. Pines," said Soos casually, as if two grown men cowering inside a coatroom was a mundane occurrence. "You see," said Soos, reaching into the pocket of Stan's old suit and retrieving a ring set with a purple gem, "tonight's the night I'm gonna ask Melody to marry me!"

Ford couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, talk about coincidences," said Ford, pulling his own ring box out and revealing the silver ring once again, "I'm trying to ask Fiddleford to marry _me_ tonight, too."

"Oh dood, that's awesome," said Soos, his chubby face illuminated with happiness, "We're like, proposal bros! _Broposals!"_

"Um... sure, why not," said Ford, scratching the back of his head nervously. He put away the box as he continued, "Unfortunately, I think I have a bit of, well, stage fright when it comes down to it. Try as I might, I keep losing my nerve."

"Aw, you don't have anything to worry about, Dr. Pines," said Soos, offering Ford a supportive smile. "I mean, so what if you made some mistakes in the past, like accidentally throwing McGucket partway through a nightmare dimension, causing him to form a memory-erasing cult and destroying most of his sanity for decades--"

"SOOS, STOP TALKING," shrieked Ford, seizing up at the mention of these horrible moments from their past.

"Heh, sorry," said Soos, embarrassed. "My point is, you two are happy together now that you've moved past that, who cares what happened then?"

Ford sighed, still not wholly convinced by these words.

"What about you," he asked Soos after a while, "I can't imagine why you would be hiding in the coatroom like a coward, you two seem like the perfect couple."

"Yeah, we are," said Soos, a goofy grin stretching across his face, "I've been planning on asking Mel to marry me for months now. I was all set on tonight, but... I got some news recently that put things in a new light."

"News? What kind of news?" said Ford, blinking.

"I mean, it's not bad news, not at all," said Soos, a slight flush creeping across his face as he spoke, "I mean, it's kind of the opposite of bad news if you think about it. Great news actually. No, the best news! Such fantastic news!"

Soos had actually started giggling and swaying back and forth, which, Ford guiltily admitted, was kind of getting on his nerves.

"What's got you so keyed up, anyway?" asked Ford as he folded his arms together.

Soos blurted out a string of unintelligible gibberish a few times before finally calming down.

"Okay, brace yourself," said Soos, who was by then positively pink in the face, "Melody told me a few days ago that she's pregnant! We're having a baby! Holy crap dood, I can't believe I just said it out loud; it's the best thing ever!"

" _Soos_ ," said Ford, quite scandalized by this news. Soos himself was still beaming, and was releasing a shrill squealing noise as he threw his arms around Ford suddenly, much to the latter's discomfort.

"Does anyone else know," whispered Ford as he detangled himself from Soos' grasp.

"Nope, I haven't even told Abuelita or Stan yet," said Soos, "Um... don't tell them I told you first. Abuelita's already going to be a little miffed we didn't wait to get married before we tried to have a baby. But that's not going to be a problem, because we're getting married anyway! Or, I hope so..."

"It sounds like you've got the odds on your side, though," said Ford, who noticed that Soos had slightly deflated.

"You'd think that, but, you know," sighed Soos with a furrowed brow, "I don't want her to think the only reason I'm marrying her is because she's pregnant, because it's not! Melody's fun and smart and cool... Oh man, I don't want to embarrass her in front of everyone here!"

The door to the coatroom opened up suddenly, alarming them both. They found a panic-stricken Sheriff Blubs in a bright yellow tuxedo bursting through the door, trying to crawl his way into the closet as well.

"Now wait just a dang minute," growled the cop as he finally noticed both Soos and Ford cowering in the closet as well. "Why are you two clowns doing here?! Scram before I have you put under arrest for-- um-- can't really think of a charge, but just get out of my way!"

"Why are you hiding, Sherriff Blubs," asked Soos, ignoring these threats.

"Maybe he's deathly afraid of proposing too," Ford quipped.

Blubs became frozen with terror at these words; as his eyes darted around the room, he whispered, "Just how in the world did you know I was planning on asking Durland to marry me tonight? You some kind of psychic? ... Seriously, are you, we have a betting pool down at the office--"

"No," said Ford dismissively, "but, well, that seems to be a popular idea tonight." He and Soos held up their ring boxes to Blubs.

"Aw, this is just great," snapped Blubs, deepening his glower at the two before him, "You're both going to try to propose to Durland too? I finally came up with a good charge for you two-- first degree boyfriend theft!"

"Don't be dense," snapped Ford, "We're going to ask _our_ significant others to marry us, you can keep your boyfriend!"

"Blubs, I don't see why you'd be scared," said Soos, patting the nervous Sheriff on the shoulder, "You and Deputy Durland are like, the two most married unmarried couple I've ever seen."

"But... but it's so much pressure!" said Blubs, who was shaking under Soos' touch. "All these people in this tiny restaurant, it feels like they're all gonna point and laugh at us. Maybe I'll just live in this coatroom with you two chumps forever instead."

"Hmmm... if we're going to do that, we're gonna need more supplies," said Soos, "I've got the infinity pizza in my pocket, but that only lets me eat it. Did you bring any snacks?"

"just a pocket full of the dinner mints at the table we were sitting at," said Blubs.

"We can work with that," said Soos with a nod.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," said Ford, slapping his hand to his face. "What in the world are we doing? These are our loved ones, not some vicious snake-headed gorgon! We need to swallow our fears and just do this thing already, or it's going to just eat us from the inside out, like the parasitic worms of Dimension NC%2k-15!"

"Oh, but we're going to look stupid, going out there and proposing to them all at once," Blubs pouted.

"Wait... maybe that could work," said Soos, formulating a plan. "If we propose one after the other, we'll probably be less nervous, and plus, it'll be super cute!"

"Like a domino effect," said Ford, a small smile beginning to bloom as he spoke. "Everyone will be so caught up in the moment, they're bound to say yes!"

"But who's going to go first," said Blubs, peering over his sunglasses skeptically.

"Hmmm..." said Soos, and, after a moment's thought, he reached over to Ford, plucking three strands of hair right from his scalp. Ford yelped and cursed, but Soos ignored him. "Whoever picks the shortest, grayest hair has to go first, no ifs, ands, or buts," said Soos, holding out three leveled out bits of hair.

"You know we could have just played rock-paper-scissors, which wouldn't involve yanking out my hair!" snapped Ford, grabbing a hair that was, to his relief, long and rather dark. Blubs cheered when he managed to pick another dark hair, leaving Soos with a light silver strand.

"Alas-- ensnared by trap of my own design," murmured Soos, clenching his fist dramatically.

"Then who's going last?" asked Blubs, holding up the hair in his hand, "Both our strands are identical!"

"I'm sure we can think of a mature solution," said Ford with dignity.

"Duel to the death outside?" Blubs raised his eyebrow at the old man, as if to challenge him.

"That sounds perfectly reasonable, I accept," said Ford, instantly pulling out his gun from the holster on his belt.

"No," said Soos sternly, "Ford's going after me, Blubs is clearly too scared to propose--"

"Too scared???" snapped Blubs, turning on Soos angrily at these words. " _I'll_ be going next; I may be scared of a lot of things, but I'm never afraid to declare my love for my precious baby Durland!"

"Whatever you say, dood," shrugged Soos. He then whispered to Ford, "I used reverse psychology to make the Sheriff go second, because _you're_ actually the one who's too scared to propose." 

"Ah... thanks, I suppose," said Ford, grimacing. Ford didn't feel that much better, if he was being honest: how would he look proposing to Fidds after two of the most perfect couples in town?

"Well... There's no going back at this point," Ford sighed. He stood up at last, gesturing that the other two should follow his lead. "Guess we better head back out there. Ready?"

"Ready like a Teddy," said Soos, smirking determinedly as he rose from the coatroom floor at last.

"I haven't hidden in a closet since I was twenty two," said Blubs, slowly rising to his feet as well. "I ain't gonna go back in now!"

"That settles it," said Ford, kicking the coatroom door open at last. "There's some beautiful people waiting for us out there, gents. Let's not disappoint them."

*  *  *

Shandra Jimenez scowled as she drained another glass of peach tea.

"That's a glum face," said Charlie, the photography intern. He was smiling enough for the two of them, a disarming grin that put most people at ease. Shandra had reluctantly invited him and...

(ugh, sorry; even I, the narrator, can't take Toby's nickname "Bodacious T" seriously)

...and Toby Determined out to dinner after a particularly slow news day.

"Kid, let me give you some advice," she sighed, "If you want to make it big in journalism, don't get stuck in a lame hick town like this one. Nothing will ever make an interesting enough news story."

"Didn't you cover some kind of world catastrophe last summer in this town?" asked Charlie, who ordered another drink for his boss.

"Yes," she said bitterly, "a story that, by law, I can never sell to a real news outlet. Stupid Never Mind All That Act..."

"You know what always cheers me up," said Charlie after downing his own iced tea.

"If you show me that Robyn-Goodfellow21 Snapgram page again," warned Shandra, her nostrils flaring angrily at the intern.

"He is a cutie who's smile makes the world a better place, but no," said Charlie, giving Shandra a little wink as he spoke. "But I was thinking more like a game-- let's people watch the restaurant. It's busy tonight, let's speculate about all the colorful characters that live in this 'lame hick town'. Might make the place feel a little less lame."

"Doubt it," muttered Shandra. "Crap, have you seen Toby anywhere?"

"Think he slipped off to the bathroom," answered Charlie, "Why do you ask?"

"Just like to know where that gremlin's lurking, he still creeps me out a little," Shandra replied.

"Well, there's a news story. 'Breaking: Missing Sportscaster Missed By None, more at eight!'" Charlie chuckled a bit at his own joke before apologizing, "Sorry, that was rude."

"Rude but accurate," Shandra smirked.

"Anyway, let's take a look at who we have here tonight," said Charlie, scanning the restaurant from the corner booth as he spoke. "Let's see... bus boy flirting with bored waitress on her cellphone out in the alcove.. we could spin that as some click-bait piece about Millennials, probably..."

"Aren't you a Millennial," said Shandra, who then took a sip from her drink as she observed the two teens with vague interest.

"A Millennial journalist who realizes our elderly demographic love stories about how awful young people are," said Charlie with a wise nod of his head. He turned his head to look at the other side of the restaurant. "Say, is that Priscilla Northwest working as one of the waitstaff tonight?"

"Oh my god, stories about the Northwests are just depressing at this point," said Shandra, rolling her eyes, "It's like watching Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette being led to the guillotine."

"That was a top shelf historical allusion, there," said Charlie, clinking his glass to Shandra's.

"Sure you want to stick to photography," asked Shandra, "You're the kind of unbearably charming person who would do great in front of a camera rather than behind it."

"Pass," said Charile, who's eyes were drawn to the middle of the restaurant, where scrawny Old Man McGucket was knocking back another chocolate tart at his table. "He's been packing away a lot tonight," Charlie mused.

"Ugh, that old koot always eats when he's nervous-- he once ate an entire bag of napkins when we interviewed him a while back about the 2009 Woodstick Festival," said Shandra dismissively. "He said something about being afraid the hot air balloons would come to life and turn against us all. Just ordinary weirdness from him."

"He looks pretty spiffy in that suit," Charlie said, "The guy he showed up with was looking nice too."

"That is comparatively odd," admitted Shandra with a nod, "They were unanimously voted the Worst Dressed Couple in Gravity Falls earlier this month. I wonder what the occasion is?"

"Well, unless I'm mistaken," said Charlie, his face lighting up as he spoke, "He just pulled out an engagement ring box."

"What?"

It was true: McGucket, his eyes darting around the room wildly, had pulled out the box from his beard and was nervously turning it over in his hands.

"Oh my god," said Shandra, grinning ear to ear now, "Just imagine the looks on their faces when we get back to the studio with the human interest story of the year! Charlie, do you have any idea who that is?"

"Yeah, the old kook who's afraid of balloons and likes the taste of paper towels," quipped Charlie. "Psych, that's Fiddleford H. McGucket, eccentric billionaire who used to live on the streets as some homeless bum, right? Now he builds robots for the government or something?"

"Precisely," said Shandra with a grin.

"Also the star of Robyn-Goodfellow21's classic video, 'McGucket Hates Celery,'" Charlie added as an afterthought.

"Ugh, who cares about Robyn-Goodfellow21's stupid videos," snapped Shaundra.

"I do," nodded Charlie gravely. "I care very, very deeply."

"Ugh, whatever," said Shandra, rolling her eyes. "But just think-- how great would it be if we managed to capture the moment when said bum-turned-billionaire finally proposes to his boyfriend? It's frothy, sure, but it beats interviewing Farmer Sprott about witches again."

"Well, I've got my camera ready," said Charlie, pointing to said camera hanging around his neck.

"Fantastic," said Shandra, "all we have to do is wait."

It didn't take long: Ford, along with Blubs and Soos, arrived back into the dining room, each taking their seats in different corners of the restaurant.

"Feeling any better," asked Fidds, patting Ford's hand once he sat down. Ford was still trembling slightly, but he smiled much easier than before.

"A bit," he said simply before taking Fidds' hand into his own to give it a kiss. This was Soos' cue.

"Whoops, I think I forgot to put change in the meter outside," said Soos, his tone slightly affected as he spoke to Melody.

"Soos, we didn't park by a meter--" Melody began, but Soos carried on all the same.

"I think I have change in my pocket," said Soos, raising his voice slightly as he patted his jacket down before pulling out the ring box with finesse. "Oops, nope, just this engagement ring, my mistake. Anyway, wanna get married?"

"Um, heck yeah," cheered Melody as Soos slid the ring onto her finger. There was a slight patter of applause from the rest of the diners as the two kissed.

"Aw, how cute," said Charlie, snapping a few photos from the booth.

"I suppose," murmured Shandra, "but we're here for the hillbilly and the scientist, remember?"

"Well, that's just the sweetest thing," said Fidds, who, in honesty, slightly wished the kids had waited until after he'd asked Stanford to marry him at the very least. It was going to be hard to beat that moment.

"Adorable, yes," said Ford absentmindedly; he kissed Fidds' hand once more, this time as a cue for Blubs.

"Say Blubs," said Durland, who seemed completely oblivious as usual, "Do you think if we bought a lobster out of the tank we'd get to keep it as a pet?"

"Edwin, the only pet I need in my life is you," said Blubs, crouching on one knee as he showed his partner the ring. "Will you marry m--"

"OH MY GOD YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS," screamed Durland, practically leaping over the table as he smooched Blubs right on the lips.

"Wait, so you're telling me they weren't already married," said Charlie, who began snapping even more photos of the newly engaged couple to his left.

"Wait... I think I see what's happening," said Shandra, who was now beaming at Dr. Stanford Pines excitedly as he fiddled with something in his pocket. "Oh my god, they're going to propose to each other at the same time. Make sure to get the shot!"

"Well, I would, if they didn't just place this giant cake in the way," said Charlie, pointing to the large, triple decker cake that a hapless waiter had placed between them.

"What-- hey, take that away, we didn't order that," snapped Shandra at the waiter, the two then bickered back and forth as the waiter tried to explain that a guest had requested they take it out to her. All this was ignored by Ford, who was now beaming at Fiddleford as he clutched the box in his pocket nervously.

"Fidds," Ford almost whispered, his voice was so faint. "I have something--"

"I gotta ask ya something," said Fidds, who, after seeing the other two couples get engaged, decided it was now or never. His finger was twitching against the Proposal-Bot's remote, as if any moment he would press it.

"So do I," gasped Ford, who probably would have been able to pop the question if the cake on Shandra Jimenez's table hadn't suddenly exploded.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, when I first wrote down that Blubs was wearing a yellow tux, I reminded myself that almost every bishie Human!Bill Cipher fan work described him as wearing a yellow suit. Decided to go with the yellow suit anyway. Personally speaking, I think the gay cop wore it better.
> 
> P.S.: keep an eye out for Charlie the Intern. I've got a larger role waiting for him in my next fic.


	4. An Important Public Service Announcement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn it, Toby...

With all this talk about marriage proposals, I think it's time we had a little chat about the subject, dear readers. Choosing to get married is a big decision, and can seem very daunting, but, as long as you and your partner love each other and feel ready to make this big step together, then there really isn't a wrong way to pop the question.

That is, unless, you do what Toby Determined did.

Toby, for whatever reason, also thought it would be a great idea to propose to Shandra Jimenez in the middle of the restaurant that moonlit night in July. This is despite the fact that Shandra was, by no stretch of the imagination, even close to being in a romantic relationship with Toby. Even calling themselves "friends" would have been too generous a description. They were, at the most, co-workers. Charlie, who was ten years younger than both and was as gay as a tap dancing toucan, had a better shot. Toby, however, was foolishly blinded by his own infatuation with the reporter, and just decided to go for it anyway.

Now, most details about Toby's proposal have been obscured over time, due to the fact it was the single most embarrassing event to have ever happened in the history of Gravity Falls. For the longest time, a petition had circulated about whether or not to amend the Never Mind All That Act to include never talking about Toby's proposal because even the slightest mention of the incident was enough to slap a hand to a forehead. Despite this, the very basic details of the proposal still remain.

It started when the cake exploded, splattering bits of buttercream frosting and strawberries every which way. Shandra and Charlie got the most of it, but many other diners got bits of Red Velvet shrapnel stained across their clothes and faces. Toby still owes many of these people hundreds in dry-cleaning bills to this day.

There in the midst of the wrecked dessert stood Toby, who was wearing the tackiest outfit to have ever been stitched together. All you need to know is that sequins and feathers were involved.  So many feathers...

Once everyone in the building was staring in shock at Toby's appearance, he began to dance an elaborate, jazzy tap dance number that would have resurrected Gene Kelly from the eternal twilight of death, just so he could punch Toby in the face for defecating all over the art of dance.

Oh, and did I mention the singing? There was singing. Oh dear lord, there was singing. Toby started warbling a tune that might have been "Marry Me a Little" from _Company_ , but it was hard to tell because Toby seemed to have forgotten most of the words and sang the entire song off-key. The climax of this whole ordeal was when Toby handed Shandra the engagement ring, which, upon close examination, seemed to have been made entirely of plastic.

Shandra said no.

Well, technically, Shandra threw the ring at Toby's head, called Blubs and Durland to escort Toby out of the restaurant, and then later filed a 90 day restraining order, but all of that pretty much means no in actions rather than words.

Blubs and Durland, for their part, were glad to do their first arrest as an engaged couple together, and were happily holding hands while beating Toby mercilessly with nightsticks outside.

So, if you are planning to propose to that special someone anytime soon, please, don't be like Toby.


	5. Songs Under Starlight

"Oh gosh, is it over," said McGucket, who had hid his face behind his beard throughout Toby's mortifying proposal.

"It's okay Fidds, you can look, we're not even in the restaurant anymore," said Ford, gently squeezing the man into a warm half-hug. Quite a few people bolted from the restaurant, both during and after Toby's ridiculous performance, not unlike Kansas farmhands running from a dangerous tornado. Fiddleford peeked out from his hair; he and Ford were out on the street with Soos and Melody, who were taking several photos of themselves holding hands, Melody's engagement ring seemed to sparkle with each flash from Soos' phone.

"Well," said Ford, smiling at the newly engaged couple, "I'm glad things worked out for them, at the very least."

"... Yeah. I'm happy for 'em," said Fidds; however, his tone was somber, and he quietly mumbled that he was going to tell the driver to pull up front. Ford felt a tremor of concern as Fiddleford gloomily pulled away, but, before he could ask what was wrong, Soos unexpectedly scooped Ford into a bear hug.

"Aw, dood, this is the best night of my life right now," said Soos, twirling in a circle while still holding Stanford tightly around the waist. Ford was not amused, but decided to tolerate the hug out of politeness. When Soos put him down, he whispered, "Hey-- sorry you didn't get a chance to propose. That was... that was a mess in there."

"Well," said Ford cheerfully, "I suppose I could look at it this way: at least now I know I couldn't look anywhere near as wretched if I tried. I think the problem I was having lay in the fact there was too many people around; I'm not a huge fan of crowds and neither is Fiddleford. I think I'll just take us somewhere nice and quiet; once we're relaxed, it'll probably be much easier to get the question out."

"Well, good luck, Dr. Pines," said Soos, offering Ford a fist bump that the older man reluctantly returned, "Mel wants us to call her folks in Portland, let 'em know the good news!"

"Thank you," said Ford, who was now feeling giddy rather than anxious, "And congratulations on everything!"

*  *  *

Meanwhile, Fidds was curled up in the back seat of the car, completely miserable.

"Did you want us to pull around, Mr. McGucket," asked Ganymede, the driver.

"N-no," he stammered, "Not just yet. I think I need to make a phone call right quick, if ya don't mind." McGucket fished out a cell phone that he had been keeping in one of the jacket's many pockets, and dialed a number with his fingers trembling wildly.

The phone hadn't even rang twice before Puck answered the call. "Hello? Everything all right? Did you ask him yet? Tell me, what did he say? Yes? No? Oh, I'll kill him if he said no, I'll turn him into a turnip and have him pureed with heavy cream and shallots--"

"Puck, settle down, I ain't even said a word yet," said Fiddleford, "But now that ya mention it, I... I don't know if I can ask him."

"Why in the world not?"

Fidds sighed, and explained every excruciating detail about Toby's embarrassing proposal at the restaurant. Puck laughed through out the whole story, much to Fiddleford's distress.

"Now why the devil would that make you nervous," said Puck, "I mean, you couldn't possibly look any worse than that poor fool."

"Oh but Puck, that's just it, I ain't much better than Toby," said Fidds, his voice cracking over the phone. "Near about everyone in town still thinks I'm a big joke, I'd just embarrass Ford near as bad as that if I asked him to marry me--"

"Well you're not asking everyone in town to marry you," said Puck firmly, "and if Ford shared any of their petty opinions, then he wouldn't be worth getting married to in the first place."

"Oh... I still don't think I can ask him in front of everybody," sighed Fidds, who buried his face into the leather cushions of the car in his distress.

"Hey, where are you right now," asked Puck.

"Backseat of the car. In the parking lot of Belinda's," said Fidds, a tear trailing down his long nose as he began to sob.

"Neat," said Puck, who suddenly teleported into the back seat alongside McGucket. The old man shrieked for a few seconds, completely shocked by the Fae's arrival; Puck ignored this and offered Fiddleford a handkerchief to dry his tears. Ganymede rolled their eyes, what a needless show of dramatics.

"Now listen," said Puck, patting McGucket on the back as he wiped his face, "I have an idea. Do you know of a place called Siren's Peak?"

"N-no," said Fidds, who had never heard of such a place. What was Puck playing at?

Without a word, Puck placed two fingers on McGucket's forehead; the man was suddenly seeing visions of a grove somewhere in the woods, a cliff that overlooked the Gravity Falls lake. "Now you do," said Puck, as Fidds reeled from this rush of knowledge. "And you'll know exactly how to get there as well. Just tell Ganymede the way, and they'll get the two of you there. It's a nice place, good for this sort of thing. No busy bodies trying to interfere, you'll have a great time, I promise. If you ask him to marry you right there, he's bound to say yes. Now cheer up. I think I see him coming towards the car. Good night!"

The Fae vanished in a burst of bright light. Just as Puck had said, Ford cracked open the car door leading to the backseat.

"There you are," said Ford, taking a seat beside Fidds at last. "I was worried-- everything all right?"

"Yeah," said Fidds, giving Ford a little smile before planting a kiss on his cheek. "I was just thinking-- Oh, I guess it don't matter."

"How would you like to say out a little longer," said Ford, pulling Fidds into a soft embrace. "It's a beautiful night-- perfect for star gazing. What do you say?"

"Why, that sounds fantastical," said Fidds, his confidence beginning to bloom at last. "In fact, I think I know just the place..."

 *  *  *

 The road to Siren's Peak was winding and paved with loose gravel, but after an hour's time, Ganymede had managed to park at a small, faded sign staked to the ground, the letters SI EN' P AK barely legible in the pale moonlight. After instructing Ganymede to stay with the car until they returned, Ford and Fidds ventured out into the night.

It was truly beautiful out, not a single cloud blocked any of the late July sky, where every star gleamed and sparkled. The moon shone like a pearl both in the inky blue sky and the silver mirror of the lake below. Atop the peak, a boulder lay on the ground where Ford and Fidds took a seat, cuddling close together as they gazed up at the diamond studded tapestry above.

"Look," said Ford, pointing to one corner of the sky with two fingers, "You can see Hercules out tonight, right there!"

"I never thought that looked much like a Hercules to me," said Fiddleford, squinting at the cluster of stars Ford was pointing towards, "Looks more like... hmmm... a frog trying to learn how to box."

"And where exactly have you ever seen a frog trying to box," said Ford, his laugh booming as he squeezed Fidds' shoulder affectionately.

"Chattanooga 4-H Fair," Fidds blurted out suddenly, "Cousin Thistlebert bought a pair of bullfrogs from a man visiting from Nashville. I... I reckon I was 'bout ten years old when we went there."

"Fidds, that was over fifty years ago," said Ford, scooping him into a quick, intense kiss, "That's wonderful that you can remember that far!"

"Heh... I guess you're right," said Fidds, who began to blush at this new wave of affection. "Been remembering all kinds of nice stuff as of late. I try recording it down on the old laptop, it helps a lot."

"Hmmm... always preferred my journals personally," murmured Ford, "but if it helps that brilliant mind of yours, then keep at it."

Fidds giggled, his ears tinting bright pink as he planted little kisses all over Ford's cheek and jaw, to the latter's delight. "I'm gonna record this date down when we get home tonight," he said, wrapping his arms around Ford's neck.

"Even the Toby incident?" said Ford, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, heck no," said Fidds, curling his lip in disgust. "I'm thinkin' just the good parts. You know... like right now."

Ford, smiling warmly at his dearest, pressed his forehead against Fidds' own brow.

"I love you," Ford whispered, reaching towards his pocket to retrieve the ring. "Will you--"

"Hey, what are you two doing here?"

Both old men jumped, then gazed up at the creature that was staring them down. She was a woman, almost nine feet tall, with skin the color of redwood bark and green, needle like quills for hair. Her face was handsome, with elegant cheekbones and full lips, which she pursed at the intruding old men with mild annoyance.

"You're a dryad," said Ford, who had only met wood nymphs in alternate dimensions before.

"Of course I'm a dryad," she replied, tossing back her needles disdainfully. "Is there any reason you two are hanging around our rehearsal space?"

"We, ah," said Fidds, who was quite intimidated by the giant tree-lady glaring down at him, "a friend recommended this place?"

"Sequoia, what's going on," asked another creature, this one short, and seemingly made of nothing but pink colored blossoms.

"Just some humans loitering," said Sequoia, "Nothing to worry about, Rhody, they were just leaving."

"Ah... of course," said Ford, who didn't want any trouble from these tree people. He scooped Fidds up, about to run as fast as he could down the path, when another voice spoke up.

"Sequoia, it's okay," said a scaly, blue-skinned woman with wavy tendrils of hair cascading down her back. "My friend sent them, they only wanted to hear us sing."

Fiddleford tensed up at the sight of Ophelia, a water nixie who had once been a near-fatal enemy to both him and Ford. If Ford hadn't been holding him back, he probably would have pounced on Ophelia right then and there, giant tree monster be damned.

"I understand your anger," she said calmly, "I don't expect either of you to forgive me. But know that I mean neither of you any ill will. Puck speaks highly of you in particular." She nodded to Fiddleford, who was still glowering murderously at the water spirit. "We'd only like to sing for you, if you'd let us."

"We do?" said Rhody, confused.

"These are the two I was telling you about," whispered Ophelia to Sequoia, a look of comprehension at last dawning in her eyes.

"Well... I suppose we could let them listen to our set," said Sequoia, who at last gave the two human men a brief nod of approval. "Please, take a seat. We call this one, 'How La Belle Dame Sans Merci Got Her Groove Back.'"

"Maybe we should just sneak off anyway," whispered Ford to Fidds as he placed him gently back on the boulder again, this time facing the trio of strange women. "I don't really have much of a taste for acapella music."

"Ford, there's a giant woman who wants to sing for us, we should probably let her do what she wants," Fidds whispered back, and sure enough, the three began to sing there song.

It was in a language that neither of them recognized, but there was something oddly, eerily beautiful about it. Sequoia's deep, alto timbre provided the base, while Rhody sang in a voice high and sweet, and Ophelia carried the melody, her voice echoing beautifully through the night. Fiddleford began to sway back and forth alongside the rhythm, humming along vaguely. Ford, struck by a wave of inspiration, offered Fidds one six fingered hand, a wordless invitation to dance. Fidds gladly accepted this invitation, and soon the two were on their feet, twirling alongside the singers, a gentle, swaying dance that paired well with the sweet song.

"Hey Ford," said Fiddleford, pressing his cheek against Ford's chest as they danced. "Back at the restaurant... I wanted to ask ya something. Do... do you mind if I ask ya now?"

"Of course," whispered Ford, pressing his lips to the top of Fidds' head.

Fidds took a deep breath.

"Would you--"

Fidds felt something slam against his back, toppling both him and Ford to the ground, much to their annoyance. The trio stopped singing, instead focusing their attention on a tiny faun, who looked as if he had run a 5K marathon just to reach Siren's Peak.

"Ladies, you'd better get out of here," said the faun to the singers, "Pan is drawing near!"

"Ugh," groaned Sequoia, stamping her large foot to the ground, causing it to tremble. "I wish this guy would just bugger off all ready!"

"Who's Pan?" asked Fiddleford.

"A dirty creep, that's who," mumbled Rhody, crossing her twiggy arms across the approximate of what would be her chest.

"We used to have more of us," said Ophelia, "all the supernatural women of the forest would gather here to sing. It was really nice, sort of empowering. But, then this guy Pan shows up and keeps harassing all the girls, saying gross, skeevy things to them if he found them attractive, then down right insulting and tormenting them if they turned him down. Ladies have stopped showing up to rehearsal out of fear this guy was going to come after them."

"It's why I was so suspicious of you two when you first showed up," explained Sequoia. "But I must say, you're the best audience we've had in months. Sorry you couldn't stick around longer, but we've got to cut this gig short. Thanks for listening."

"Now wait a minute," said Ford, furrowing his eyebrow in anger. "This stalker shouldn't be pushing your lot out of your rehearsal space!"

"But what can we do?" asked Rhody. "He just won't go away."

Ford and Fiddleford shared a look together, then smiled mischievously at one another.

"Gather round, ladies," said Fidds, taking out the remote stashed hidden in his pocket. "We're gonna hatch us a plan."

 


	6. Lost in the Fog, Then Found Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have noticed that there’s been a longer gap than anticipated for this chapter. I apologize for this: the world has gotten to be a much scarier place since I last updated Preposterous Proposals! If I were being honest, I haven’t much felt like writing.
> 
> However, write I must. Though it seems daunting at times to write something silly and happy when the world outside seems so bleak, I try to remind myself that this fic, and the AU that I’ve set it in, is based off a show that has comforted me greatly in dark times before. If I can make myself and anyone reading this feel at ease for just a little while, then it’s a good day spent on this earth. I hope you all enjoy this update to Preposterous Proposals! Remember to look out for each other, and try to make the world an easier place to live.

 They could smell Pan before they could even see him: a pungent, musty smell of dirt and sweat, the sort of moldering stench that objects buried underground for long periods of time carried on them. It was the damp smell of moldy basements, the smell of book paper claimed by mildew, the smell of stale tobacco smoke. Ford thought he would gag as the stench became stronger the closer Pan drew nearer.

How disappointing, Ford thought, when what emerged from the forest wasn't some savage beast, but a regular, if stinky, satyr. Pan was certainly taller than the average satyr, in fact, he looked only a little bit taller than Ford. His skin was pale, not an ethereal pale that would have suggested otherworldly power, but just the kind of pale that suggested he didn't get out much in the sun. He was mostly bald, save for the ring of blond hair that stubbornly refused to leave its post.

Of course, it was soon made clear why Sequoia and the others didn't like the satyr. Upon seeing Ophelia leaning against one of the trees, Pan gave her a hungry smirk that made both Ford and Fidds feel slimy. Pan trotted over to the water nixie, yanking a flower off of Rhody's body before constricting an arm around Ophelia's shoulders.

“Well hello,” said Pan in an greasy, smug little voice, “Is it just me or did you somehow get comparatively hotter since the last time we met?” He offered her the flower, which made Ophelia scowl.

“Oh yay, I always wanted a guy I don’t know to give me a piece of my friend’s body hair as a gift,” said Ophelia, resisting the urge to break the satyr’s arm.

“Lighten up,” said Pan, throwing the flower back at Rhody, who shrieked. “Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Sorry, was that supposed to be funny?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a frigid harpy we’d be having some fun right now,” said Pan, his tone nastier with each word he spoke.

“I’d be having a lot more fun if you took your arm off my shoulders, actually,” said Ophelia, detangling herself from Pan’s arm.

“Why do you have to be like that,” snapped Pan.

“Because she doesn’t like it,” Sequoia countered, “and that should be reason enough for you to back off. Now leave.”

“But I feel like staying.” Pan sneered at the dryad as he took a seat on the rock, crossing his goat legs as he stared down the trio of singers. “Now do me a favor, stop lecturing me and sing a pretty song.”

“I can’t take much more of this,” whispered Ford to Fidds. They were hiding by the car with Ganymede and the robot Fidds had summoned. Granted, it was hard to hide a ten foot robot, but Pan was so self absorbed that he hadn’t even noticed them when he came out of the woods.

“Yep, let’s take care of this,” said Fidds, completely disgusted by the greasy creep. With a push of a button, the robot began to step out of the darkness of the woods towards the satyr.

“Say, when did you make this robot again? I don’t think I’ve ever seen this model before,” said Ford, scratching his chin.

“Ummmmm… Satuesday afternoonevening,” Fidds scrambled, not wanting to reveal the true nature of the Proposal-bot at this particular moment.

“Guys,” said Ganymede, pointing to Pan, who was staring at the robot with curiosity, “You’re missing your cue.”

“Right!” said Ford, and the two ran after the robot, holding makeshift bouquets of wildflowers and twigs while calling out desperately to the robot.

Pan was still demanding the Siren’s sing for him when the Proposal-Bot made its grand enterance. The Sirens cringed; not only was the robot a ten foot tall terror, the old men had given it a half-hearted makeover in an attempt to make it more “feminine.” A hastily sketched face, one with too many eyelashes and a lopsided mouth, took up the front of the robot. The mechanical lady wore the remains of an old trash bag over its long, rectangular body. To top this spectacle off, Fidds had taped a limp, wilted flower he had found lying on the forest floor to the top of the robot. One would have to be particularly dull witted to have thought it was anything but a ten foot tall box wearing a garbage dress—

“Woah, who’s the babe,” asked Pan, his oil-slick eyes glinting in the moonlight as it took in the robotic “beauty.”

“Um… y-yeah,” agreed the smaller, frightened faun. “She’s really, um, c-cute?”

“Please come back,” wailed Ford, brandishing the bouquet of sticks like a bat, “we love you so much, um… Bettyannelsie?”

McGucket, with his usual amount of subtlety, wailed furiously and stamped the ground as he begged the robot to take him back.

“Who are these old losers,” said Pan while cleaning out one of his ears with his fingers.

“Oh, we’re her Ex-boyfriends,” said Ford mournfully, “She dumped us because we weren’t good enough for her! She says she needs a guy who’s… strong! Yes, that's it. And, uh, handsome? And also balding a little bit?”

“Ooooooh, I’m all of those things!” said Pan excitedly; he pushed both Ford and Fidds out of the way to get towards the Proposal-Bot. Scowling, Fidds pressed another button on the remote, which made the Proposal-Bot glow and gleam as it began to speak.

“I LOVE YOU,” it bellowed in a metallic clang, the voice was raspy with static and frankly nightmarish. This hadn’t bothered Pan in the slightest; the creature grinned hungrily up at the robot at this declaration.

“Thanks, you’re kinda tolerable yourself,” simpered the Satyr.

“MARRY ME,” the robot screeched suddenly.

“Um…wow, that was quick,” mumbled Pan, “I was kinda thinking we’d just make out a little bit and I’d only call you after that if I got bored or someth—“

“MARRY! ME! MARRY! ME!” screeched the robot over and over again; it grabbed Pan by the scruff of the neck and began to shake him back and forth. McGucket now saw why Tate had warned against the bot, it kept pummeling Pan every time he said something gross, which was just about every thing he said. Finally, the robot only dropped Pan once it began to overheat and spurt flames randomly. McGucket then turned the robot off before it could explode violently. One jet of flame set fire to the hairs on Pan’s left leg; he screamed and squealed until Ophelia summoned a jet of water to quench the flames. Sopping wet and sputtering, Pan just lay there on the ground slug like as the others gathered around him.

“Um… sorry I set ya on fire a little bit,” said McGucket sheepishly.

“I’m not,” said Sequoia bluntly. “Next time don’t be such a wad and you won’t get beaten up by robots.”

“Yeah, quit being such a dirty creep,” scowled Ford.

“I see…” mumbled Pan, his expression ponderous and a bit sad, “So, none of you really like me?”

“NO!” shouted all three of the sirens.

“No one here has ever indicated otherwise,” added Rhody.

“But why,” asked Pan with a frown.

“Because you crash our rehearsals even when we tell you not to,” said Sequoia.

“Because you put your gross hands on people’s bodies when we tell you not to,” added Ophelia, scowling.

“Because you ripped out one of my friggin’ eyebrows,” snapped Rhody, “and literally nobody should have to tell you not to rip out other people’s eyebrows without consent, it’s just not an okay thing to do!”

“Well, I don’t see how these two had to get involved,” snapped Pan, waving his arms angrily at Ford and Fidds. “Why can’t you two rickety old humans keep your huge noses out of a guy’s business?”

“They told us you were making them uncomfortable,” said Ford sternly, “I think that’s a good enough reason to step in.”

“How come they’re allowed to be here and I’m not?” said Pan, ignoring this last statement completely. “Explain that!”

“They’re on a _date_ , bozo,” snapped Sequoia. “we invited them to stay!”

 “Look, Pan, maybe we should just go already,” said the tiny Faun, lifting the Satyr to his feet. With what little dignity he could claim, Pan brushed himself off.

“Okay. I can tell I’m not wanted,” sniffed Pan. “I’ll be leaving now.”

Suddenly his eyes began to glow with an evil green light; his stench intensified as he began to hover magically in the air. 

“ _AFTER I HAVE MY REVENGE!_ ”

Pan snapped his fingers, and then, everything was darkness. A deep, endless fog enveloped the lot of them, one that reeked of Pan’s hideous body odor.

“That’ll teach you ladies not to cross me,” snapped Pan, his voice echoing through the fog. “You’ll have no choice but to sing for me now that I’ve got you all trapped in my pocket dimension!”

“Ew, lame!” called Rhody from deep within the void. “It smells like we’re trapped in his armpit!”

“Pocket dimension? Satyrs don’t have pocket dimensions,” said Ford, who thought this whole ordeal was just the most appalling display of foolishness he had ever seen.

“Well, we’re still stuck in it, dear,” said Fidds, a slight tone of hysteria coloring his voice as he linked his arm around Ford’s bicep. His knees were bouncing frantically from fear, how were they ever going to get out?

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Pan’s voice mocked them from the shadows “I have cosmic powers beyond any mere satyr! I am a god made flesh! I am perfection, both in your boring plane of existence and in this; the center of my domain!”

“So… you’re a cosmic entity and you chose a _satyr_ as your dimensional avatar?” asked Ford, confounded.

“I don’t have to justify anything to you, stupid human! In fact, why don’t you two just beat it anyway? This doesn’t concern you!” 

A small door appeared before them, a large, neon sign in the shape of an arrow flashed “EXIT” at the two old men.

“Just get out of here, jerks!”

“Ford, I ain’t gonna lie, I’m scared witless,” said Fidds, giving Ford’s arm a squeeze, “but we can’t let him keep the girls trapped in this awful place!” 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” said Ford determinedly; he pulled out the gun hanging from his hip, ready to shoot Pan once he dared to reveal his bloated face.

“The back of the neck,” called the tiny faun, “It’s his main weakness! You hit that and we can get out of here!”

“Oh, come on, Petey, don’t be such a narc,” snarled Pan, still concealed by the deep fog. The cosmic satyr sounded close though, thought Ford; keeping Fidds behind him, Ford crept towards the sound of Pan’s voice, his fingers ready to squeeze the trigger.

“You think you can beat me with your little toys,” Pan sneered.

“This gun once took out a space _tyrannous rhino_ ,” said Ford cockily, “It’s twice as smart as you are and half as ugly, so I like my chances.”

“I have my own weapons,” Pan continued. “In this realm I have access to all your innermost thoughts, the dark, hideous memories you thought would fester away through neglect and repression. I’ll drive you both mad before you even lay a hand on me!”

“Whatever,” said Ford, bolder than he felt.

“Yer just makin’ stuff up now,” said Fidds, who tried to find the others while Ford hunted for the satyr.

Suddenly, a stretch of fog cleared, and to the old couple’s surprise, they saw themselves; it was the two of them about three hours ago, standing in front of the Shack at the start of the date.

“ _You ready to go_ ,” the past version of Ford asked, his voice echoing eerily in the void.

“ _Sure shootin’_!”

“Don’t you two seem cute,” said Pan disdainfully. “It’s enough to make me sick.”

“It’s not our fault if you’re jealous you can’t get a date,” sneered Ford.

“Jealous? Jealous of what,” snapped Pan. More images surrounded the two, each one more distressing than the last. Young Fiddleford squirmed on a bale of hay, his eyes glowing and wild, his arm bent at a terrible angle with long Gremoblin quills piercing his flesh. Ford stared coldly at Fidds from across a table as he begged Ford to end the portal project. 

“ _We will do the test tomorrow night at eight o’clock sharp. Be there or get left behind. The choice is yours_.”

A bound up Fiddleford sobbed in the dark of the bunker, Fiddleford almost falling into the portal only to be wrenched back at the last second, his eyes wide as he lay catatonic in Ford’s arms, Ford screaming at Fidds as he left, “ _I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone!_ ”

It was as if someone had cut him open and started to fill him up with stones. Ford didn’t dare look at the current Fidds, how could he? His cheeks burned hot with shame as the memories finally began to fade.

“You, my pig ugly friend, are about the worst boyfriend I’ve ever seen,” spat Pan. Ford lifted his gun up higher, but his hands were shaking too frantically to keep it steady. Ford’s gun eventually clattered to the ground. Pan continued, “I’d rather be a three-legged mouse trapped in the reptile house at the zoo than go out with such a selfish, friend-endangering prick!”

Without warning, Ford felt himself being dragged upward. Fidds screamed after him as Ford found himself in the now giant Pan’s grasp; he struggled but could do nothing to free himself. 

“If I were to rip that lumpy, misshapen gourd you call a head off your shoulders right now,” hissed Pan dangerously, “I’d be doing toothless over there a favor.”

“OH, SHUT UP YA DUMB BRUTE!”

Pan roared as a blast, small but sharp, hit him in the shin. McGucket glowered up at the demigod, he had Ford’s gun pointed directly at Pan’s oily, pimple-textured forehead.

“Ford and I had problems,” he snarled viciously, “but I ain’t about ta let a nasty varmint like you hurt _my_ boyfriend! You put him down right now before I shoot you right between the eyes!”

Pan cackled nastily at this promise. “How appropriate, you threatening to blast something that scares you away with a gun,” said Pan, his voice greasy as yet another round of memories began to appear. 

They were more faded and distorted, like sun damaged photographs, but they played out all the same: Fiddleford in a red robe, the words “ _It Is Unseen_ ” being chanted in the background, Fiddleford aiming the gun at Ford’s head as the latter begged him to destroy the cursed invention, each moment of McGucket’s slow descent into madness playing out at an agonizing pace. Tears began to well up in Fidds’ eyes as he stared at dozens of memories of him, a raving fool living off the street like a rabid animal.

“Pathetic,” said Pan, sneering. “No wonder you settled for this jackass.” Pan shook Ford in his hand briefly; Ford struggled to get free harder than ever.

“I- I didn’t settle,” sniffled Fidds. “And I don’t care about what he’s done in the past no more! I love him—”

“You don’t deserve love,” said Pan bluntly, “who could ever love you, a cowardly, spineless old fool! He got sick of you then, and that was during your prime! He’s bound to leave you again, just like everyone else, now that you’re this husk of a man!”

Fiddleford completely broke down; he fell to his knees and began to sob uncontrollably as Pan continued to taunt the old man with painful memories. 

Pan’s vicious glee was brought to a halt when he felt a stabbing sensation in the palm of his hand. Ford had managed to wrestle a knife from somewhere in his jacket, he pierced the flesh of Pan’s meaty palm over and over again until Pan dropped him to the ground.

Ford ignored the pain in his knees and elbows; nothing mattered now but getting to Fidds, making sure he was safe, letting him know he was special and loved. 

Fidds was curled up in a ball, knees hugged tightly to his chest as he wept in the darkness. Ford kneeled down in front of him and, with no hesitation, pulled Fiddleford into a hug. Fidds sobbed even harder.

“Y-you should just leave me behind,” Fiddleford sniffled. “He’s right. I’m just a-a cowardly old fool—”

“Don’t ever say that.” Ford tenderly kissed the top of Fidds’ head. “You aren’t a fool, all right? You’re wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.”

“But it’s all true,” said Fidds miserably. “I’m just a big joke and… and I did such awful things… to my family, the town, even you—”

“And so have I,” countered Ford. He rocked Fiddleford gently as he held him safely in his arms. 

“Listen my dearest,” said Ford, “we’ve both made mistakes in the past—I’m still not sure how anyone ever forgave me for even half of the crap I’ve pulled. But we’re in such a better place now, you and I. Fidds, you just told off a demigod, does that sound cowardly to you?”

“Yer… yer just making it sound better than it is,” Fidds mumbled as he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. “I used that accursed gun on ya—”

“Something that would have never happened if I stopped listening to Bill’s flattery and lies, if I had just kept you safe—”

Fiddleford was bawling again, Ford just held him even tighter in his arms. It’s often the best thing to do be done when a loved one is crying. Fidds could hear the steady tempo of Ford’s heart, a calming sound even now when he felt so lost.

“We’ve made terrible mistakes in the past,” whispered Ford. As he spoke, however, hundreds of images appeared in the fog: the two of them, battered and scared, hugging for the first time in decades, Fidds happily playing Ford a song on the banjo by the warm light of the woodstove in his ramshackle dump, the two of them curled together on Ford’s couch after that eventful night in June when they had finally, _finally_ gotten together. A hundred kisses since their first, each sweet moment playing over and over again.

“But,” said Ford, beaming, “I think we’re doing a pretty good job patching things up.”

Slowly, Fiddleford began to smile again. 

“Just promise me something,” Ford murmured.

“Yeah?”

“Forgive yourself.” Ford pressed his forehead gently against Fidds’ brow. “The same way you forgave me. Promise?”

“… Okay,” Fidds said at last; he took Ford’s face into his hands, softly caressing the sides of Ford’s cheeks before pulling him into a kiss. “I promise.”

“ _FOOLS!_ ”

The couple jumped; Pan’s voice was a cruel and cold as ice water down the back.

“You two will never be happy together,” Pan screeched from on high, “You’re old, you’re ugly, every moment you will ever spend with each other will be misery!”

“Oh, would you cut that out,” Ford replied with naked loathing. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harassing women and making stupid, unwarranted assumptions about other people’s lives?”

“Yeah, get out of here, ya filthy old goat!” Fidds stuck his tongue out at Pan.

“You’re in my pocket dimension, remember?” Pan loomed above them, dark and imposing as a hurricane darkened sky. “This is _my_ domain! You two are the interlopers! I’ll forcibly escort you off this very plane of existence!”

They clutched each other tightly, bracing themselves for Pan’s attack, but it never came. All at once, Pan was bombarded on all sides: twining branches ensnared his legs, shards of ice pierced his arms and belly, while a swarm of bees attacked his head, stinging him all over until one managed to hit the back of his neck.

A flash of green light, and one last putrid wave of fog later, and they were back at the top of Siren’s Peak. Pan was lying on the ground, back to his normal size and grumbling about destroying them all. Ophelia stood over the disgusting little man, and, with one sharp wave of her wrist, she summoned a stream of water from the lake that wrapped itself around Pan and flung him to the other side of town.

“What an asshole,” said Ophelia lightly. 

It turns out, the other singers hadn’t been showing up to rehearsals because Pan had also trapped them in his pocket dimension; there was a delightful reunion between all the sirens now that they had been freed at last from the tyrannical satyr’s smelly prison. 

“Thank you guys for trying to help us,” Sequoia thanked Ford and Fidds as she hugged two other dryads. “We’re so sorry you got hurt on our behalf. I guess all we needed to do to get him to go away was to beat him up.”

“We never thought that was an option,” admitted Rhody sheepishly. 

“Whoops,” said Petey the Faun.

“It’s all right,” chuckled Ford, “It actually ended up helping us in the end, I think.”

“It’s mighty grand we got ta help y’all save your friends, too,” added Fidds.

“We’re extremely grateful,” admitted Ophelia, offering them both a rare smile. “Now... weren’t you two going to ask each other something?”

The couple blushed; they had been so swept up by the attack they had forgotten what had brought them to Siren’s Peak in the first place. Simultaneously, they pulled their ring boxes out from hiding, before either could even get the question out, they saw each other’s rings glinting in the moonlight. Ford’s laughter was booming as they exchanged rings; Fidds eyes lit up like sunshine as he just stared at his new ring completely lost for words. The set Fidds had made for Ford fit perfectly, he stared awestruck at his strange fingers for what felt like hours, hardly daring to believe it.

“Are—are you sure you want to do this, Fidds,” whispered Ford.

“Sure shootin’,” said Fidds, happy tears now running down his face. 

They kissed for what felt like hours under the pale light of the moon, without a single worry about anything else in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally stated I wanted to publish this chapter and the next simultaneously, but I felt like I've kept you waiting long enough. The next chapter, which is pretty much an epilogue, should follow shortly.


	7. Epilogue: New Beginnings at Brunch

Dipper woke up to find Daya peering up at him from the side of his bed. Stan had managed to dig out an old cradle from who knows where, and had stuck it in the twins' attic bedroom to give the toddler a place to sleep. The crib, however, must have been too small, because the toddler had managed to easily escape the wooden prison, and was now trying to crawl into Dipper's own bed. Dipper pulled the toddler up onto the mattress and, after Daya had settled down next to him, shared some of the covers, hoping that would get Daya to go back to sleep.

Titania and her servants had ended up staying overnight; everyone had waited until almost two in the morning for Ford to come home with the news. When he didn't show, everyone had just decided to go to sleep, sure they would hear the story from him tomorrow morning at breakfast.

"Dipper, why you so stinky," whispered Daya.

"Hey, those are some fighting words," said Dipper, he tousled the toddler's hair, causing Daya to giggle loudly. On the other side of the room, Mabel stirred awake. Her bed had been plastered with multicolored pieces of paper where she had carefully planned each detail of Ford and McGucket's hypothetical wedding, right down to what flavor the wedding cake would be (Was it possible to create molasses flavored cake? She'd have to ask Puck).

"What's funny?" Mabel asked groggily.

"Dipper stink!" replied Daya.

"Tell me about it," Mabel agreed; Dipper threw his pillow across the room at his twin, beaming her in the face. Just as the kids were gearing up for a full-on pillow battle royale, they overheard the sounds of a woman angrily berating somebody in Spanish somewhere downstairs.

"Wonder what that's all about?" asked Dipper.

"Guess we could take a look," said Mabel.

The twins and Daya, whom Dipper carried down the stairs, found Melody sitting uncomfortably at the kitchen table, watching Abuelita Ramirez steadily beat Soos over the head with a rolled up newspaper; Soos, for his part, just kept at his omelette like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Um… is everything okay here?” Asked Dipper, raising his eyebrow at this scene. 

"Oh children,” said Abuelita, her tone now soft and gentle, “wonderful news! Soos and Melody got engaged last night!”  
She smacked the newspaper over Soos’ head once more, shooting Soos another dirty look.

“Oh my gosh, are you serious?” Mabel was beaming; her second favorite couple was getting married too! Melody grinned sheepishly as she held up her left hand, revealing the engagement ring Soos had given her last night.

“And you’re… happy about this,” Dipper skeptically asked Abuelita, who was still bopping Soos with the newspaper.

“Oh, I am overflowing with joy,” said Abuelita cheerfully, delivering one final blow to Soos’ head before sitting down at the breakfast table.

“…okay then,” said Dipper weakly. He shared a brief look with Daya, who simply shrugged.

“Oh my gosh,” repeated Mabel, who gave Melody and Soos a hug each, “you two crazy kids, congratulations!!! I hope Grunkle Ford was just as lucky!”

“You know, I haven’t heard back from my proposal-bro at all,” said Soos.

"Proposal-bro?”

"It’s a long story,” said Melody, slicing a huge chunk of omelette with her knife, “But yeah; he wasn’t home when we got back.”

The twins shared a concerned look.

“Then where did Ford go?”

The kids decided to search the house, in case Ford had slipped back home without anyone noticing. They peered into the living room, where Peaseblossom, Mustardseed, Cobweb and Moth had piled into the recliner together to sleep, each one looked as if they were dangerously close to falling out of the chair.

“Morning aunties,” Daya cheered; his aunties replied by groaning and complaining about being woken up so early.

“Have you seen Ford?” asked Dipper.

“No, go away, sleeping now,” grumbled Mustardseed, who lethargically waved her hand at the three kids in an effort to get them to leave.

“He’s p-probably in his room,” Peaseblossom yawned.

“Now beat it,” snapped Moth.

“I thought fairies were supposed to be cheerful in the morning,” Mabel whispered as they traveled to Ford’s room.

“They’re not that cheerful any other time of the day, not surprised they didn’t make an exception for mornings,” Dipper whispered back.

“Mean aunties,” Daya agreed.

Ford was not in his room either; the twins debated whether or not to search for Ford in the basement, but they decided that Daya had to stay upstairs if they were to go into the dangerous, underground laboratory. Of course, Daya didn’t want to let go of Dipper’s neck and began to cry at the very suggestion he’d be left behind on an adventure. So, the kids decided to hand Daya over to Titania, who was the most likely person to calm him down.

Finding Titania was proving just as difficult as finding Ford; not a trace of the Queen could be found throughout the Shack. It wasn’t until the kids stepped out on the porch that they found both her and Stan fast asleep on the dirty couch. Stan, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, had his hand resting on Titania’s back right between her wings; Titania had wrapped her arms around him as if she were cuddling a large, smelly teddy bear.

Mabel let out a squeal, “Dipper, let me run upstairs and get my camera!”

“What about Ford?” asked Dipper.

“Dipper, it can wait,” said Mabel, waving her arms at the sleeping grumps. “Look at them! I’ve never seen anything this cute in my life!”

“You said that about a sea slug once,” said Dipper, rolling his eyes.

“It looked like a little bunny,” Mabel countered.

“Kids, pipe down,” grumbled Stan, who was stirring awake. Titania frowned, but kept her eyes closed in a futile attempt to go back to sleep.

“Well, good morning you two,” said Mabel slyly.

“Never was there ever a more loathed phrase in any known language,” said Titania, knitting her eyebrows together in annoyance.

“Did you two seriously sleep out here all night,” asked Dipper.

Titania opened one eye and said, “Hmmm, looks like we did.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” admitted Stan, patting Titania gently on the back, “Tanya farts in her sleep, that kept me warm enough.”

“I do not,” snapped Titania, who sat up and bopped Stan’s chest with a musty old pillow, “Take that back!”

“What, you want me to lie to the kids,” said Stan, winking to his niblings as Titania glared at him.

“Anyway,” said Dipper, cutting off any further bickering, “Have either of you seen Great Uncle Ford? He’s not anywhere in the house at all.”

“He’s not?” Stan blinked.

“We waited for him out here last night,” answered Titania, who gingerly took Daya from Dipper’s arms and sat the baby on her lap, “but we fell asleep. Maybe he just stayed over at McGucket’s.”

“Maybe,” said Mabel, frowning. She’d been looking forward to hearing the whole story from her Uncle that morning, and found herself rather disappointed.

A nasty thought occurred to Dipper. “You don’t think… you don’t think he stayed out because McGucket said _no_ , do you?” He remembered how he had felt after confessing his crush to Wendy; she had let him down easy, but it had hurt all the same, and that was just a regular, boring crush. He couldn’t even begin to think how it must feel to have somebody tell you they didn’t want to marry you.

“Oh, of course he didn’t say no,” said Titania airily; she magically summoned a brush and began to detangle Daya’s hair. Dipper noticed, however, that her eyes had looked worried when she had spoke.

“Well, he could have,” admitted Stan casually. Tanya shot him a dirty look. “Well he might have,” said Stan defensively, “I mean, come on, I don’t _want_ him to say no—”

“Oh really? I would have,” said Puck, who appeared suddenly on the front porch next to Stan. “I mean, I only have to tolerate him visiting the mansion every other day or so, I can’t imagine the mundane sort of horror that comes with living with such a boring, irritable know-it-all every single day.”

“Puck!” cheered Mabel; she tackled the fae around the middle into a bone-crushing hug.

“Hey, it’s McGucket’s weird little goblin son or something,” said Stan, who hadn’t even bothered to learn Puck’s name. He only knew that the kids seemed to like him for whatever reason, and Ford often complained about being the butt of Puck’s many pranks since he’d come to town. He couldn’t be all that bad, he thought.

Titania had much more mixed feelings about Puck, and very bluntly asked, “What are you doing here?”

Puck blushed. “Ah—my lady, I—”

“I’m not your lady, now quit gaping at me like a fool and answer my question.” As she spoke, Titania had wrapped her arms protectively around Daya, who, for his part, was smiling placidly at Puck like an old friend.

“Well… I um…”

“He’s here to borrow my copy of Monster-Mon,” lied Dipper, who had never seen Puck acting so flustered. “I invited him here.”

“What—oh, right,” said Puck, who had never asked for anything like that.

“Why don’t we get you inside,” suggested Mabel, who grabbed Puck by the hand and dragged him into the Shack, with Dipper close behind.

Titania was still scowling once Puck had gone inside.

“Mama, you were mean,” said Daya, frowning.

“What? No I wasn’t,” sputtered Titania “… was I?”

“Of course not,” said Stan dismissively. “You only glared at the kid like you were going to crack his skull open and scramble his brains into an omelet was all.”

“Well… all right maybe I was a little harsh—”

“Mean,” agreed Daya.

“But I don’t think he should be left alone with the kids,” said Titania, getting up from the couch. “He’s a pretty bad influence; who knows what trouble he’d get them into?”

“They’ll be fine, they’re good kids and I’m the worst influence I know, after you, that is,” said Stan dismissively, but all the same he followed after her.

Puck was sitting at the foot of the stairs with Dipper and Mabel at his side.

“So why did you come all the way up here anyway,” Dipper asked.

“Well, I think I heard the two of you mention something about not knowing where your fuddy-duddy, six fingered uncle went,” said Puck, who, once out from under Titania’s piercing gaze, had recovered most of his confidence back.

“Hey yeah,” said Mabel, who perked right up again at the mention of Ford, “Have you seen him?”

“And did he mention something about a question he had for McGucket?” added Dipper.

“Maaaaaaaaybe,” said Puck teasingly as he roughly tousled the hair on both their heads.

“Get him, Mabel,” said Dipper, and before Puck could even stop her Mabel began tickling his side.

“Gah! S-stop it you little demon, I can’t—I can’t _breathe_ ,” wheezed Puck, but he smiled brightly, even when Titania and Stan had returned from outside.

“Well,” said Puck, once Mabel had let him go, “I can’t tell you guys much, but I _can_ invite you guys to the brunch we’re having up at the manor. If you’d all like to go, that is.”

There was a _thump_ from the living room that sounded suspiciously like a recliner falling over. At the very promise of free food at a fancy mansion, all four of Titania’s servants had woken up and scrambled to the front hall.

“Is it all right if we can go,” Peaseblossom asked the Queen sweetly. After a long, pointed sigh, Titania gave the girls a reluctant sort of nod.

“We should invite Soos and Melody to come along too,” added Mabel.

“Please do, I never hang out with that guy,” agreed Puck. “But I get this nice vibe, you know?”

“Soos isn’t going because he’s grounded forever,” called Abuelita from the kitchen.

“I’m twenty-three grandma!”

“And now you’re grounded until you’re twenty three and nine months old.”

“Yikes, maybe next time,” muttered Puck.

“Anyway,” Puck added, “I’ll let you lot get dressed and ready before I teleport us back. See you outside!”

* * *

They had arrived just as the brunch was in full sway; an assortment of odd, magical creatures filled the hall, laughing and eating breakfast treats from a large buffet table that took up most of the room. Piles of pancakes, sausages and eggs, biscuits and gravy, even a tray of fruit that had gone mostly ignored by the rest of the group.

“Yikes… what a freakshow,” mumbled Stan as they passed a trio of dryads gossiping over chicken and waffles in the far corner of the room.

“Who’re you calling freakshow, freakshow,” said Titania, bumping him with her hip.

Titania’s servants wasted no time grabbing plates from the buffet table and filling them full of breakfast things (Peaseblossom helped herself to the bowl of fruit, while Cobweb, Mustardseed & Moth battled over French toast and bacon), meanwhile, the younger twins searched the room for a sign of either Ford or McGucket.

“Look,” cried Mabel, pointing across the room.

At the heart of this party stood McGucket, who was carrying a hot tray of blueberry muffins; the brownies were swarming around his feet, bouncing on their furry little feet as they begged the old man for treats.

“Aw, dang it,” whispered Mabel.

“What is it?” asked Dipper.

“He’s wearing oven mitts, I can’t tell if he’s got a ring on or not,” she whispered back.

“Well hey there!” McGucket had just caught sight of them, he let the pan clatter to the floor, the brownies attacked the muffins with the sort of ferocity normally reserved for lions eating a limping zebra.

“Well I’m glad to see y’all made it,” said McGucket, who without warning threw his arms around Stan and squeezed him into a hug. Stan scrunched up his face and made a sort of growling noise, but nevertheless tolerated the hug from the smelly hillbilly & potential brother-in-law.

“Hi, stinky Santa,” said Daya with a wave.

“We heard you had Ford spend the night here,” said Tanya in a would-be casual voice.

“Yep,” said McGucket, cheerfully. “He’s still sleeping upstairs, but when he wakes up we got lots to tell y’all about last night!”

“Well that just won’t do,” snipped Puck, who put his hands on his hips. “It’s well past eight in the morning, he can’t just sleep the whole day away while his guests and family are waiting downstairs. I’ll go get him.”

“Puck, now you leave him be,” scolded McGucket, but Puck ignored him. Puck’s most favorite hobby was finding new, creative ways to get on Ford’s nerves, and besides, today was a special occasion. Puck spread his black, beetle like wings and flew out of the room; McGucket, cursing and berating Puck the whole way, followed after him, and he in turn was followed by the Pines family and Tanya.

They found Puck in the master bedroom, flying above the four-poster where a still-sleeping, Pajama clad Ford lay resting.

“Puck, seriously, if he’s still sleeping, leave him alone,” hissed Dipper, but Puck was persistent in his mission. The Fae plopped down on Ford’s back, the old man grunted but didn’t wake.

“Now really,” said Puck to the Pines family, “you’d think he’d get out of bed for something like this.”

“Look kid,” said Stan, “just let the man sleep.”

“Hmmmmmm…” Puck stroked his chin thoughtfully for about five seconds before he smirked and said, “Nope.”

With all his strength, Puck smacked Ford across the rear three times. This certainly succeeded in getting Ford to wake up: Ford yelped, cursed, then tried to roll over on the bed to catch Puck, who was cackling madly as he flew across the room out of Ford’s reach.

“You little—”

“There are children present,” said Puck lazily; he waved his hand at Ford’s family waiting by the doorway. McGucket scowled at Puck disapprovingly while an uncomfortable Dipper and Mabel stood awkwardly by Stan, who was red in the face from trying (and failing) to conceal his own laughter. Even Tanya, who was decidedly not looking in Ford’s direction, was twitching at the corners of her mouth.

“Kids? Stan?” Ford blinked as he reached for his glasses, which were lying on the nightstand by the bed. He placed the glasses on his face with his right hand, while his left was scratching the back of his head, fingers just out of sight.

“When did you get here,” Ford yawned.

“About two seconds ago,” said Stan, smirking. “Had a good night?”

Ford grinned, he held up his left hand to reveal the ring set clinging to his fingers.

“Objectively, yes, yes I did.”

The effect was instantaneous; Mabel squealed happily and jumped on the bed to get a better look at the ring, while Dipper and Tanya whooped out their congratulations as they went to get a better look as well.

“What the what plot twist!!!” squeaked Mabel as she examined the engagement ring on Ford’s hand. “When did he give you this?”

“I reckon around the same time he gave me this,” said McGucket, pulling off an oven mitt to reveal his own ring.

Mabel screamed so joyfully that she fell onto the floor flat on her face.

“You gonna live, kid,” said Stan, helping his niece back up onto her feet as he spoke.

“You got to tell us everything,” demanded Mabel. “From the beginning until now!”

Both smiling, Ford and Fidds told the tale of how they got engaged, from the antics at the restaurant to the battle in Pan’s pocket dimension. They had a very good audience, nobody said a word aside from laughing and gasping at all the right parts, the only hiccup they ran into was when Ford mentioned escaping Pan’s clutches.

“Wait, you pulled a knife out of your tux? When did you get a knife?” Stan raised his eyebrow at this odd little detail.

“I put knives into all the clothes I make with my magic,” explained Tanya casually.

“What,” said Stan, tilting his head to the side, “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s just good safety measures,” nodded Tanya. “In case you get attacked. See, look, the belt on my dress has a knife hidden in the decorations.”

She whipped the knife, which had a white-gold hilt encrusted with pearls, off of the belt to give Stan a better look.

“Watch where you point that thing, woman,” said Stan nervously, he found the image of a pretty lady holding a knife in front of his face both threatening and strangely attractive.

“Wait, do people not normally sew knives into their clothes,” asked Ford. “I’ve got a bowie knife hidden in the lining of these pjs somewhere.”

“I like to keep mine hidden up my pants,” said Puck, lifting his pants leg to reveal a small obsidian penknife attached to his sock garter.

“I keep mine in my hats,” said McGucket, retrieving a hunting knife from the depths of his scarecrow hat.

“I gotta knife too!” said Daya, pulling a plastic, retractable play knife from one of the pockets on his onesie. “It’s a fake though!”

“I wonder if I can get one hidden in my vest,” mumbled Dipper thoughtfully.

“Knife Sweaters! I can knit pockets for them and everything,” said Mabel cheerfully, wondering what kind of yarn would be the best for concealing weapons.

“Okay, I get it, you’re a bunch of knife-wielding weirdoes,” said Stan, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Stan’s jealous he doesn’t have a knife,” stage-whispered Puck to the kids as he insisted they drop the subject so they could get back to the story.

Once the couple had finished, they had twined their hands together gently, sharing a warm gaze that made even the stoniest heart in the room thaw.

“I’m glad you two managed to talk your issues out,” said Titania kindly. Smiling, she placed her hands upon Ford and McGucket's. “I wish you both the best.”

Stan was quiet, and not quite looking anybody in the eye.

“Stan, quit crying,” muttered Puck into the old man’s ear.

“I am not crying you little turd,” said Stan with a slight crack in his voice.

“Yup he’s crying,” said Titania, with a knowing little smile. She patted Stan gently on the shoulder.

“Definitely crying,” agreed Ford.

“It’s okay to cry Stan,” said Dipper.

“We got choked up something fierce last night when it happened,” added McGucket.

“FOR THE LAST TIME I AM NOT CRYING!”

(Yes he was. I would know, I’m the narrator.)

Let us leave the Pines family here, dear readers, happily teasing Stan about happily crying at his brother’s own engagement brunch. It’s the happiest place I can think to end the story, aside from the wedding itself, which, in its own way, is an epic in and of itself. Until then, friends.


End file.
